


Good Omens Drabbles

by Celandine



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-20
Updated: 2007-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine/pseuds/Celandine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These drabbles include a variety of non-pairing-related situations in the Good Omens-verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Subtlety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The railway timetable is supposed to be accurate, isn't it?

Crowley leafed through the railway timetable, smirking. One of this year's great successes; he'd arranged matters so that fully half of the printed times were incorrect, but subtly so. He had a private wager with himself that no human would notice before the next one came out. Instead they would merely grumble endlessly that trains never seemed to run on time anymore, not like the old days, and the resultant ongoing disgruntlement would spill over into other areas in their lives. He smirked again and touched the printed black figures lovingly. Some days it was just good to be evil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for darkladyothsith for holiday 2007.


	2. Death's Retirement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Apocalypse is Death's retirement day.

War, Pestilence (or rather, Pollution these days), and Famine all had plenty to keep them busy; it was a rare day – even a rare moment – when one of them wasn't needed _somewhere_.

Death, however, ran "busy" into the ground.

Not that every death required his personal attention, thank God.(1) But enough did that he had difficulty in finding time even to change his socks, much less put his feet up.

Death hoped that after the Apocalypse he would have time to get a dog.

* * *

  
(1)Although he didn't thank God for that. He just accepted it as the Way Things Were. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For eeyore9990 who wanted Good Omens, Character: Death, word: Dog.


	3. Provocation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War walks into a bar...

She stopped in a bar in one of the more dubious city neighborhoods. It was a tattered grey February day but paper Halloween pumpkins and bits of Christmas tinsel and an Easter bunny with one ear missing all adorned the walls.

"Watcha doin' here, lady?" asked a man whose gold teeth glinted as he spoke.

She smiled at him, and he bought her a drink, sour sharp wine that even in the dim light gleamed ruby.

"I'll call you a cab," offered another man.

"I will," growled the first, and War watched with pleasure as they fought over the privilege.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For darkladyothsith, who wanted Good Omens, War (character), and Halloween.


	4. Litter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Success begins with the little things.

This would be Mankind's inheritance. And Womankind's, also – Pollution was no sexist. He looked around in satisfaction. Starting small always worked. Get them used to it, then they wouldn't notice as everything worsened.

Here, for instance. The dead end of a semi-rural lane, where teenagers dropped used condoms and wadded-up fast food bags. The sparkling shards of smashed beer bottles lay scattered through the weeds, pointing the way toward a sluggish stream.

Pollution stepped lightly on the red mud by the water and bent to look. Yes. An oil can left its rainbow slickness, trumping any fish's scales. He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For realpestilence, who asked for Good Omens, Pollution, inheritance.


	5. Urgent Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death is late.

"He's late," complained Pollution, absentmindedly tapping his foot on the ground and watching pieces of litter appear.

"What does it matter to _you_?" asked Famine. "Neither of _our_ jobs requires Death to be in any great rush. Not like _hers_." He nodded towards War, examining the bright red polish on her nails for chips. She had just returned from a week's holiday in Africa.

"I imagine he's finishing up my business," she agreed. "9400 dead, I believe, at last count."

"9500," said Death, appearing unexpectedly and wiping his mouth. "AND I HAD TO STOP FOR A BITE TO EAT AFTERWARD."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For darkladyothsith who wanted War, Famine, and Pollution, "waiting for Death."


End file.
